


Graduation Present

by vanessa_cardui



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bondage, Gags, M/M, POV Rapist, Sexual Slavery, Slavefic Worldbuilding, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanessa_cardui/pseuds/vanessa_cardui
Summary: The thing is, Owen can't say no to presents from his Uncle Alan. And Leo is avery expensivepresent.So he might as well enjoy him, right?





	Graduation Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wyvernwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernwood/gifts).



It wasn't the worst graduation party ever, anyway.

Yeah, only people in the Patron class were invited, because otherwise Owen's family would look like they didn't really endorse the New Compact, and for recently appointed Patrons, that could be a disaster. And yeah, a lot of Owen's friends in school had been class 3-12, because school was for pursuing knowledge unrelated to class and there were a lot more 3-12s than 1s and 2s. So it was mostly family and people who were looking to make contacts with the Castlewoods, and who would've showed up to the party. But he'd graduated school, and it wasn't like he'd be able to spend a lot of time with low class acquaintances from school. It was a bummer they couldn't be there, but it was getting on time to let them go.

Food was good, music was good, Ariadne Williams was there and seemed like maybe, possibly, she was interested in making a connection between the Castlewoods and the Williams, and Ariadne was. . . well. And the presents had been pretty good. Owen's dad hadn't thought he'd be able to graduate with a first, and since Owen had come through with a double first, he'd had to come through with his side of the bargain and buy him a new car, or everyone in the family would've known it. And there was a portion of the family income which was going to devolve on him on graduation regardless, but it was nice to get the certificate, and the 9,000-a-year guaranteed, independent of whatever he could get from industry; he could put that into bonds, or. . . there were a lot of things he could do. Patron class and a double first meant that there were already a half-dozen firms sending recruiters at him, and if he decided to go into business for himself, it'd be no problem getting loans; he could get any number of grade 4s and 5s to cover those loans in the hopes of going up a grade if the business worked out, whatever it was.

The party had been a little bit of a let down, because it'd been an adult party, not the sort of loose and free stuff that he was used to. But that was what it was time for him to do. Adult parties, adult responsibilities, and adult opportunities. Food had been good, drinks had been good, and it'd been nice to see the whole family. Castlewoods had come out from all the way up the coast and as far south as the border, and whether or not there'd be a marriage contract with the Williams, those were people who he had to know, and whose parties he'd have to go to. 

And also, Uncle Alan had said that he'd gotten him something special, and it was waiting in Owen's bachelor house. Could be it was nothing much; maybe he'd gotten him a new sound system, or an upgraded computational unit--it'd have to be something big, or he'd have given it to him at the party. But the thing was, Alan Castlewood had been the one to get the Castelwoods up from grade 2 to grade 1, and while Owen's parents thought school was a waste of time, Uncle Alan had been really happy about that double first.  
Could be it was something better than a sound-system. Not a boat, even though Owen kind of wanted a boat--either he'd have given him the title at the party, or told him it was waiting at the marina, but maybe. . .

The lights in his house were off; when Owen went in, and turned them on, there was a sudden jerk in response. From the guy who was tied to the chair in the salon.

"Leo?" he said, and Leo Shrader looked back at him, eyes wide, not saying anything.

He was fully dressed, and he was tied firmly to the chair, a rope harness around his chest and attached to the back of the chair, arms tied together behind that, legs tied to the legs of the chair. There was a red bow on his shoulder, and a note under it, with "Congrats" written on it with a bit loopy handwriting.

Owen went over to Leo, started untying the ribbon that held that bow and note in place. "I thought you were doing fine at your classes," said Owen.

"I was," said Leo. "Just means that it was a little more expensive to convince the board to sell me down to thirteen."

The note was from Uncle Alan, just like Owen had expected. "Heard you liked him, so I picked him up for you. Double first is something to be proud of, and you deserve to relax a little. Enjoy!"

Owen sat down heavily on the couch, looking at Leo. He'd been there for the whole party. The rope around his ankle had gotten in under his trousers and over his socks, and Owen could see the mark from where he'd shifted.

Leo Shrader. They'd been friends for years; since placement. Leo was an 11, sure, but he was smart, and he was friendly, and unlike the other sub-tens, he'd never tried to get anything out of Owen when he'd found out that Owen was a two.

He wasn't looking great. Leo was short, and a little heavy, and yeah, Owen liked him. He'd always liked him. How Uncle Alan had found out about that. . . he'd probably just asked around a little, because Owen hadn't tried to keep it secret or anything. "What you'd get on the exams?" he asked, not really thinking about what he had to think about.

"Six firsts," said Leo.

Owen sank deeper into the couch.

"What?" asked Leo.

"Buying you as a recent grad eleven wouldn't have been cheap. Buying you as a six firsts eleven is . . . you cost more than a boat, Leo."

Leo tried to shrug, but he was tied up too well for that. "Sorry?" he said. "I didn't ask for anyone to buy me."

"Yeah, well, neither did I," said Owen. "But that's what my Uncle Alan did. And it's not like I can say no to something like that. If you'd been on the verge of flunking out or something, I could get you bumped back up to eleven, and given you a job in my staff when I went to work. But this is way too much money for me to do anything about."

"I don't understand," said Leo.

"Yeah, I know," said Owen. "It's a patron class thing. Uncle Alan was the one who got us up from 2 to 1. So he's . . . we've got to show that we appreciate what he's done for us, or there'd be problems; I can't say no to Uncle Alan, not for anything. because he's the one we're all leaning on. Not if he asks me to do something, not if he gives me something."

Leo's look was hopeless and angry and tired, and he understood. Sort of understood. Understood enough, anyway.

Owen got up, with a sudden burst of energy, went to his guest closet. All the stuff was there, laid in place ever since he'd finished the training course freshman year. He could've bought a 13 or two, but he didn't need the distraction, and one of the things about school was that he didn't have all the privileges and duties of a class one or two. So it took a little to remember how the tools were laid out.

"What's coming next is going to be a little easier if you can't talk for a little bit," he said.

"Owen," said Leo, and he sounded scared, for the first time. He'd been tired and grumpy, and . . . it was a little sad, really. But also a little. . . Owen couldn't say no to Uncle Alan, and he'd been told to enjoy, right on the outside of the card.

"Mhm?" said Owen, picking out the size that looked right. 

"Owen, I know this isn't your fault, and you have to, but I'm straight; I can't--"

"Oh, don't worry about that," said Owen. He'd picked out an elastic strap-gag. Simple thing. Pull it down over the mouth, and it would hold there, tight enough that it could't be dislodged. The training course had taught Owen how to hold it with both hands, and pull it down quickly, over the nose, and in; Owen's breath caught as the thing pulled on the sides of his cheeks, holding his mouth awkwardly open. "I'm not one of those guys who gets mad if you're not into it when you're serving."

"Ash nah wha ah--"

"I know," said Owen, stepping back, to get a better look at Leo. "It's not what you meant. But here's the thing: choices like that are for three through twelves. Class Thirteens do what they're told. And classes one and two? We've got rights, and we're going to use them. But we can't dilute family with . . . you know. Cross-class kids. So it doesn't matter if I'm straight; I'm going to have class thirteen boys around. It doesn't matter if I'm gay--I'm going to get married to a woman, and have kids with her. You know?"

Leo's eyes were bugging out a little, maybe because of the pressure from the gag, maybe because of . . . everything.

If he'd gotten a 13 for personal recreation during college, it would've been a whole thing, and it would've made it a lot harder not to be treated like a 2, or a patron, once Uncle Alan came through. But that didn't mean that he hadn't paid attention when he'd taken the breaking and training course in high school, and it didn't mean that he hadn't wanted.  
There were the shears, for the clothing. They'd stressed that, in the class he'd taken. The owner should cut the slave out of the clothing he'd worn before, and anything that the slave wore after that point would be given to him from his master's hand. That was part of the process, and Owen had to get it right.  
It wasn't just that Leo was his first, and it wasn't just that Leo was a gift from Uncle Alan--an unnecessarily expensive gift, with everything that came with that. Leo was his first, and Owen had to get everything right, because he wanted Leo.

Leo hadn't been interested in guys, so he hadn't pushed when they were in school. And he was a good friend--had been a good friend. Now he was something else. And he wasn't like, stacked or anything. Little short, little bit chubby, but he was always so. . . on. So interested, so good at conversation when Owen would retreat behind a beer and listen to people being friendly around him. He'd just wanted him, when he'd been lighting up, talking about something that had interested him, or trying to do something for someone who needed help.

He had the shears, but before that, just a little bit of eyeshadow. Dark blue.

"Wh?"

Why? Because it would streak when Leo started crying. Because it made Leo's eyes look better. Because it would make Leo's eyes look better when he looked up at him, while sucking his cock.

"Because I want to, Leo," he said. He'd left Uncle Alan's letter on the chair he'd been sitting on. He looked over at it. "Look, I gotta," he said. "If I'm not . . . I have to do this, and I have to enjoy it, and it's going to be fine. Don't worry. I'll teach you what you have to do."

Shears at the collar of his shirt, down toward his waist. On the other side of the rope, pulling bits of fabric clear. Just like he'd been taught, clean, quick cuts, then pulling the fabric loose, or leaving fragments to. . . to decorate, to look disheveled.

When he was done, Owen ran his hands across Leo's torso, feeling the smoothness of his skin, the warmth of it, pulling at the hair of his chest, watching it spring back. Then he leaned forward and licked Leo's shoulder, just a little, is hand drifting to Leo's chest. Leo flinched at the touch of Owen's tongue, and he jerked and gasped when Owen pulled as his nipple. Sensitive. They had a lot to learn about each other.

Owen stepped back, looked at Leo. Shirt was shredded, he was breathing hard. Little bit of drool coming out from under the gag and down his chin, but he was still trying to keep it in, to keep from embarrassing himself.

If it hadn't been for the cost, and the consequences, and all that--Owen wasn't sure what he would've done, if he would've been able to let Leo go. But it was for all that; he didn't have to, he couldn't. "Let's get you out of that chair," he said. 

He kept the rope harness on Leo's torso where it was. It looked good, and that was. . . it wasn't like Leo was going to try to fight him or make a run for it or anything stupid. But he was going to do everything right, and he was going to do everything by the book, and he was going to get what he wanted. So he went through the procedures for moving someone who wasn't yet cooperative. No more than one limb free at a time, maintaining control throughout, getting Leo over to the post at the side of the salon, near the kitchen, and restraining him to it. Back to the post, hands behind his back.

When he was done, he stood there, just for a moment, appreciating what he had, what his uncle had given him.

"Oon?" said Leo. That was the thing about the band-gag. It made it harder for Leo to talk, but not impossible. Wasn't always what he wanted, but for now, it was perfect.

"I'm right here, buddy," said Owen. "It's okay."

"Eeh huu."

Wasn't always possible to understand everything he said, though, with that gag in. "Eeh huu!" repeated Leo, louder.

"It hurts?" that got a tired nod from Leo. "The gag?" another nod.

Owen patted Leo's shoulder. "I know it does," he said. "That's part of the point. Gag doesn't come out until you're begging to suck my cock."

That was another thing that they'd told him in that class. That sooner or later, there'd be a point when the subject realized what was going to happen, and decided that he didn't want it to happen. If it was going to work, if it wasn't going to take professional assistance to correct, Owen had to make it clear that what the subject wanted didn't matter, couldn't matter. What was going to happen was what Owen wanted, whether or not it was what Leo wanted.

Shears to the waistband of his pants. Leo struggled, just a little, trying to keep them up after the waistband was cut. And the same with his underwear.

He'd been tempted to peek, now and then. Just to make the fantasies a little more realistic, a little more informed. But he hadn't, and now. . . and now he was able to see Leo's cock, the lines of his hip-bones. "Straight, huh?" he said, because Leo was already at half-mast. He ran his fingers across the silky-smooth skin of his cock, rubbing the head and feeling it twitch. "There you go. But it's going to hurt a little more; help us figure out what you like, eh?"

The dark blue around his eyes was already a little streaked. It was going to get a lot more streaked, and soon.

There'd been a medical inspection, of course. Nobody was going to release a grade thirteen to a patron without making sure they were clean and healthy. But the doctors hadn't done any modifications. No piercings, no. . . Owen stroked Leo's cock, tugged his pubic hair. He'd probably have to take it off--he was going to take it off himself, with a straight razor, while Leo was tied firmly in place. But for now, it looked fine. It all looked fine; a nice, proportional cock, circumcised and responding to Owen's touch. He grinned, gave it a little slap, and watched Leo bounce in his ropes.

"Let's start with clamps," he said. "Nipples first, but also. . ."

He shook himself. First meeting, he had to be authoritative, make sure that Leo knew that Owen knew what he wanted and that he would get it. He couldn't show confusion or weakness or try to do ten thousand things at once.

Leo was his, bought and paid for. He could do each of those ten thousand things, one after the other, and everything else that he came up with. Owen kissed Leo's shoulder again, when he put the nipple clamps on. Then he pulled over a chair, and sat next to him, playing with his cock, watching how Leo responded to pleasure and to pain. He wasn't going to let him get off--at least, he wasn't planning on it. Not the first session, not until. . . not until later. But whether or not Leo was straight, he responded pretty well when Owen touched him.

And he'd get embarrassed whenever Owen pointed that out. It was hard to stay focused when Leo blushed, or when he tried to squirm away from compliments, from Owen's hands and mouth.

Owen wasn't going to start fucking Leo's ass right away. Tearing something in Leo would be like getting his new car in a fender-bender the first time out. Leo was a gift, and would be treated appropriately. And that was going to take a while. After he turned him around and bent him over, Leo was breathing hard, drool dripping down and spatting on the parquetry floor of his salon. And it took a lot of work and patience and lube to get the smallest training plug in.

But he got it in, and Leo was wriggling a little, trying to get it to sit more comfortably, or get it out, which wasn't going to happen, not after Owen strapped it into place. "Good boy!" he said. "You're doing great."

"Oon?" said Leo, weakly.

"Yeah?" said Owen. "Right here, buddy."

"Caa aa pleef uk yoo cook?" said Leo, weakly.

Owen ran his hand across Leo's ass, slowly, calmingly. "No," he said.

"Whh"

"Because you don't want it badly enough, yet," said Owen. "But soon, maybe. If you ask a little better. First I'm going to hit you."

Leo's groan was real, and Owen's cock pushed hard against his trousers, like it was going to tear loose and jump down Leo's throat if Owen didn't hurry things up. But first the beating. A broad, heavy paddle, but Owen didn't hit harder than he needed to; he wanted Leo stinging and aching and hurt, not broken.

The way Leo was tied up--bent at the waist, collar fastened to a post, hands behind his back, ankles connected with a short hobble chain--meant that he couldn't get out of the way of the swats, but it was cute to watch him try; the jiggle and the little hitched-breath sobs, and the way he'd open his fists wide, and sort of wave his hands, just a little, after each strike, before closing them up in anticipation.

When he asked to suck Owen's cock again, Owen let him.

Properly. Set him up on his knees, hands where he could cup Owen's balls, stroke his shaft. The gag stayed in, right up till the very last moment; that relief from the agony, the way the tension went out of his shoulders, when Owen pulled the gag off, and pushed his cock in--it was perfect.

It was going to take a while to train him up for personal use, let alone get him ready to be shown off to Alan or the class 2s who he was going to be working with. But that moment of release, that joy. Sure, it was because the elastic had been pulling at the corners of his mouth for the whole time--hour and a half, which was what was recommended for the first session. But like the instructor had said--you connect joy with what you want them to enjoy. Leo looked up at Owen, his lips around his cock, the dark blue streaked with tears and pain.

Owen's hands clenched in Leo's hair, hard, keeping him in place as he came. Yeah, he was coughing, and didn't swallow it all.

Not that time.

He would.

Later, when Leo was sleeping, tied to the foot of Owen's bed, he got to work on his thank-you notes. It definitely hadn't been the worst graduation party ever.


End file.
